Beyond Words
by Howlingwolf94
Summary: She lets him lean on her, bearing most of his weight. It makes her feel like she's sharing the load, that the burden he carries on his shoulders has been given to her as well. It makes her feel like they're in this together.


Inspired by the song 3055 by Olafur Arnalds. I recommend you check it out.

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><p>He lies shivering in his bed of shambles, staring with bleak eyes at the wall. A feeling of bitter loneliness consumes him despite Link's obvious presence just a few feet away.<p>

He hears words, notices the Inspector's lips move, but heeds them not. He's too lost in his own world to care.

Link watches him lay there in the corner, gaunt and shivering. He's aware that Allen doesn't bother to listen, but continues to speak anyways because of the vain hope that maybe the boy will listen. It's the only thing he hopes for these last few days.

"You need to eat," he says calmly, patiently. Patience is the only thing he can give him even though he knows it's not what he wants.

Allen ignores him, mumbling something indecipherable under his breath. Link almost wishes he could hear what he's saying—what he always says—but can tell after spending days with him locked away in one of the dungeons just what he's saying without having to ask.

It's _her_ name he says, a name he says into the night as he cries tears of despair whenever he thinks Link is asleep and can't hear him.

"She's not here," he reminds him. "She's out on a mission and she won't be back for another few days."

This quiets his mumblings, but only for now. He knows that it will only start up again in a few hours.

A part of him wonders if Allen is even aware that he calls out to her or if it's the only word he remembers because of lack of sanity at the moment. It's something he chooses to ponder as he picks up where he's left off in his book, keeping one eye attentively on Allen as he reads.

* * *

><p>She sat there, on her knees, staring with hollow eyes at the pile of destruction she's left in her wake in an attempt to saving the town's people. It appears she's done more harm than good and at one time she would've cared. This time she doesn't.<p>

Lavi approaches with his usual clumsy grace, limping heavily as he wipes vigorously at a wound past his hairline. A sloppy grin is on his face in spite of his injuries, giving a low whistle that signified surprise.

"Could've gone better, but I'm not complaining," he says as he comes to her, his grin falling at the sight of her broken gaze. For a moment he thinks it's because of the humble town being reduced to rubble, but realizes it's not. It never is.

He lets himself get frustrated for once. "Snap out of it!" he begs her, snatching her by the arm and yanking her up. She hardly reacts. "Lenalee, for the love of God, do something, say anything!" he pleads, tears coming to his eye. He can't stand seeing her broken like this, not anymore.

Lenalee complies in the sense that she shrugs his hand away, rising to her feet.

"What's happened to make you this way?" he questions, willingly letting a tear slide down his face. He wants to see her smile but knows she won't. She never smiles anymore.

She doesn't answer his question, not directly anyways. She just looks at him, giving him a glance that holds his answer and makes him angry for it.

"The mission is complete," she says hollowly, much like a drone. She looks like one most of the time too, unless she mentions _him_. It is then a part of her old self returns, if only momentarily. "I want to see Allen again. Do you think they'll let me?"

Lavi musters up a smile, partly for her and partly for his benefit. "I don't see why not," he chirps characteristically. "You've been sticking by the guidelines, right?"

A breath of life flashes in her eyes and it's enough to make Lavi actually smile this time. A part of her former self is present with him now, and he's not taking any moment of it for granted.

"Yes," she assures, a bit of emotion flooding into her voice. "I go on missions assigned by Lvellie, and if I return alive I can see him for an hour."

"I believe that to be so. And you're alive, aren't cha?"

A look of uncertainty glows like a flickering flame in her eyes, her old self receding back into the shell that has become her body.

"Not anymore…" she whispers to him as she retreats to the location where the gate was situated. A trail of blood follows behind her and she remains relatively oblivious to it. Lavi isn't and he shudders at the sight of it, allowing his eye to follow it back to the source.

Her body is battered and bruised, numerous cuts and scrapes issuing out crimson liquid with startling ease. Bits of her once beautiful ebony hair is left in tangles, parts of it missing from all the chaos that had recently ensued. Even from the distance he can see the way she momentarily touches her left wrist, one of her fingers bent at an odd angle.

Her hand is broken, he deduces.

He wonders how much more of her is going to break before this all is over.

Before she comes to wake from this awful nightmare only to realize that it has become her life.

Her hell.

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><p>It is at night when she comes to him.<p>

A bit of sorrow comes to her hollow eyes as she descends down the stone stairs to the prison that keeps him locked away from her. Komui walks beside her, a pillar of light amongst the darkness that has begun to swallow her up.

He looks to her with worry in his eyes. He can't help but rest a hand on her shoulder, drawing her close. She in turn pats his hand with her good one, acknowledging the gesture. Her head moves against his chest as they continue down, the sound of his strong heartbeat reassuring to her.

Words weren't necessary when it came to the comfort only a sibling could give.

And even if Komui wanted to, there was nothing he could say. Nothing that would restore his sister's broken spirit.

When they approached the cell that held Allen, Komui tapped his knuckle against the wooden surface, quickly greeted by the sight of Link, who looked slightly relieved upon seeing Lenalee.

"He hasn't stop asking about you all day," he tells her, knowing that she would care.

Wordlessly she enters as Link moves aside. He closes the door behind her, wishing to give them privacy. Komui doesn't object. He knows that nothing too extreme will happen. He understands that whatever happens in that one hour is for them only to know.

Rays from the moon enter from the small window, illuminating the room in shades of white and silver. Instantly her eyes fall onto his fragile form lying on the bed, curled in on himself. She sees that he is shivering in spite of the blanket that covers his body.

Immediately she walks over and climbs onto the bed, lying down beside him. She ignores his ashen skin, ignores her own pain as she wraps her arms around his waist and nestles in close to his back, her head coming to rest against his shoulder blades. Eventually his shivers die down to lesser trembles and the chill that's enrooted deep into his skin eases away.

Comforting silence rains down on the pair as they lay there on his tiny bed. Slowly he rests a hand on hers, rubbing his fingers against the smooth, warm surface.

"You're hurt…" he remarks mostly to himself.

"So are you," she replies, voice quiet amongst the heavy silence.

"I know," is all he says, closing his eyes and breathing in her presence. Then he says after a brief pause, "I'm glad you came."

"Me too," she whispers. "It's torture being away from you, not knowing if today will be the last time I see you."

He doesn't say anything, though he squeezes her good hand in a gesture that he agrees. She places her cheek against his shoulder, relieved to feel some warmth come to him. Another pause passes between them before Lenalee pushes herself to ask, "When's the last time you've eaten?"

"Three days ago," he admits. He found after about the third visit they had that he couldn't lie to her. There could only have complete and utter honesty between them if either of them was going to remain relatively sane.

She pulled away and sat up. Pushing off the bed, she made her way to the table that Link normally occupied and found a bowl of oatmeal left uneaten, now cold and lacking in appeal. She took up a spoonful of it and tasted it.

By now Lenalee had learned not to gag whenever she tried his cold dishes to see if there were safe and Allen had learned not protest whenever she did this. It was just another one of those things that became unspoken between them.

After verifying that the canister of water was safe as well, she brought the bowl of oatmeal and bottle of water with her as she made it back to him. Pulling over Link's chair to his bedside, she sat down and watched as he struggled into a seated position. His face strains from the effort, the weight of seals wrapped around his left arm difficult to maneuver.

Eventually he sits up and expectantly takes the water from her, gushing down half of it in one swing. Rivulets of waters stream down the corners of his mouth as he pulls it away, droplets sliding down his chin and onto his lap. Neither care.

"Can you manage it on your own?" she asks, knowing full and well that the question will bother his ego.

He takes the bowl from her with a quick motion, resting it on his lap and snatching up the spoon. He digs in unceremoniously and she can see by the way he forces himself to swallow that he despises what he has to eat. She wishes she could bring him something he likes, cook him something hot that he'd actually eat but she can't. Because Lvellie has forbidden her from bringing in food because of a previous incident.

He had attempted to escape by breaking the plate she had brought and using the glass as a weapon.

From before and after that brief incident he had only been given wooden dinnerware, his only utensil being a spoon meant to be used for all his meals.

It's in a minute that he finishes the oatmeal, washing it all down with what remained of his water. Gently she took them away from and placed them on the floor as he sank back, staring skyward. His eyes are glassy with tears and hers begin to water at the sight of it. Both feel a sense of desperation because of the situation neither of them can control.

"Lenalee," he murmurs softly. She looks to him, struggling to keep a steady face despite the fact that she's wilting like a flower inside. "Promise me that you'll continue to fight. That you'll never give up."

"Only if you promise me the same thing." She can't bear the implications of words, not without him promising them as well.

He smiles; the first one in days. "Of course," he assures her, offering up his hand. She takes it and slowly she is pulled back onto his bed. She sits down, this time her back to him. He gives a sigh as he leans forward, resting his forehead on her shoulder. Her fingers then go up to tangle in his hair.

"We won't give anyone the satisfaction that they've won," he murmurs into her shoulder. "We'll prove them wrong, right Lenalee?"

She smiles. "Or die trying."

"Yes, or die trying," he agrees.

They soon elapsed back into the usual silence where words held no meaning and only actions did. She gets up from the bed and pulls him to his feet. From the way he wobbles as his bare feet connect with the ground she can tell that he hasn't walked in a few days. She lets him lean on her, bearing most of his weight. It makes her feel like she's sharing the load, that the burden he carries on his shoulders has been given to her as well. It makes it feel like they're in this together, drawing their two broken souls closer together.

She sways with him for a while, humming a mindless tune as they moved about the room. In time the muscles in his legs began to strength and he lessened the weight he bore down on her. Soon their sways came to a gentle waltz, their movements un-choreography and sloppy. But neither care, enjoying the comfort of each other's arms wrapped around their bodies, anchoring them together.

"If only this could last forever," he said to her, exhaustion evident in his movements and features. She led him back to bed promptly.

"I do too," she agreed. "But we're trapped here in reality, away from the comfort of dreams."

He makes no response and she realizes that he's fallen asleep. She rests her good hand on his cheek, smiling softly. It relieved her to see him in a peaceful slumber instead of a restless fit.

Bending down as the door opens, her lips brush his dark cheek briefly before she pulls away so that nobody can see what she has done.

"I'll see you soon," she vows. "Have sweet dreams."

She leaves without being told that her time is up. Her brother remains waiting for her on the other side, not saying a word as he draped an arm across her shoulders and pulled her close to his side.

He didn't say a word as tears began to cascade down her emotionless face.

* * *

><p>"Allen?" she said the next time she visited him two weeks later.<p>

"Yes?"

"What do you dream of when I'm not here?"

"I dream of horrible things, dark things. About the 14th, about the Order…about you."

"What about me?"

He would not say.

* * *

><p>"Lenalee?" he asked her a few visits later, finding her to bear a patch of gauze against her throat, stitches at her brow. She appeared more tired than usual.<p>

"Yes?"

"What pushes you fight so hard?"

"The thought of knowing I'd be coming home to you."

"And what if you came home to find that I wasn't there?"

She would not say.

* * *

><p>Months go by in this manner, as Allen, Lenalee, and the entire Order for that matter waited for the boy's struggles with his Noah to end in failure, for the final verdict of his heresy to sentence him to death. With unimaginable strength he held on, but through her visits Lenalee could see that he was holding on by a thread, growing more and more distant and quiet as his struggles became more and more difficult to endure.<p>

On his off days they'd just lie together, seeking the comfort of the other's presence.

On his good days they'd chat briefly about nothing in particular, hoping it'd be a distraction from the reality of the situation.

He had more off days than good it seemed, and it was steadily putting a toll on her, making her irrationally desperate.

One afternoon she came for a visit, hoping to cheer him up with a pair of socks and a scarf she had knitted for him out of her spare time. It had taken her weeks to finish the garments.

Entering the cell after going through the customary routine, she mustered up a smile when their eyes met, the unnatural lucidity in his now amber eyes informing her that this was one of his better days.

"Look what I brought," she said as she showed him the homemade scarf and socks. He offered her a waned smile, beckoning her to come closer. Amongst the strange awareness she spotted his exhaustion. It was constant struggle for him to remain awake these days. It seemed like he was just always tired.

"Their lovely," he remarked, fingering the grey yarn. They looked like a child made them, especially the socks what with their misshapen form. But because they were made by her hands, he found them to be preciously beautiful.

He tucked them away at his side, patting at the bed space for her to sit down. She did, suddenly sensing something was off.

"Lenalee…" he sighs gravely, taking a hold of her hand. "I can't hold on much longer than this. If you can…I have just one request for you to do for me."

"Allen," she warns, tightening her grip on his hand, hoping it would make him react. It did not.

"Please, if it had to be anyone, I'd want it to be you."

She looks away, knowing she'd be mesmerized by his promising eyes that have darkened into amber as of late. "I can't…"

"You must," he implores, struggling to sit up, only to slump back in defeat. "Please…you have to be the one to do. I can't see it be doing any other way."

She moves away from him then, pacing over to the table that held a bowl of cold soup. "Are you hungry?" she asks in a slightly terse voice. She hastily takes a sip to find it clean, just as everything else had been, and turns to him. "It's clean."

He gives no protest as she drops the bowl to his lap, a portion of its contents splashing on the moth bitten blankets he had over his legs. His eyes stare at it solemnly, not moving a muscle.

A look of vulnerability sweeps across his features as he lays propped up on pillows. He attempts to retrieve the spoon but finds that the effort takes too much out of him, leaving him dropping his shaking hand in defeat, looking away in bitterness. "I can't keep living like this…weak like an infant," he complains, weeping softly. "I-I can't…let myself become one of them."

"_Shush_…" she soothes as she ran a hand through his hair, hoping it would ease some of his emotional discomfort.

With a hand that shook she took up the wooden spoon and began patiently feeding him, mulling over his words and finding that they made a startling amount of sense. But her feelings for him were holding her back from making that big decision of cutting him from her life. She couldn't let him go, not without her.

A world without Allen was a world without hope.

A world without hope was no world at all.

"Promise me you'll at least consider it," he says minutes later now that they lay together, side by side.

She could only nod, not trusting her voice.

He runs his fingers over her face, brushing his hands across her eyes, her nose, finally tracing her bottom lip slowly. Words weren't needed to describe the feelings they felt for each other, nor were actions. They both knew how the other felt, and they remained laying there, absorbing the other's company, in peace.

Closing her eyes, she moves closer to him, knowing that this would be the last they ever touched like this.

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><p>After just coming back from a mission a month and a half later, Lenalee rushes to meet Allen, her decision made and her mind made up. Blood runs down her arms and legs, staining her ripped uniform. Her left eye droops somewhat because of her swollen upper eyelid, a large cut sending cakes of blood coagulating over the left side of her face. She drags along her left leg, the ankle shattered.<p>

She remains numb to it all as she struggled to greet her fellow comrade, ignoring the rational protests for her to stop.

"No," she would say whenever someone attempted to prevent her from going any further. "I must see Allen."

If it wasn't for Kanda stepping in and allowing her passage, she would've been ushered to the Infirmary. But no one wished to challenge the man who's temper was infamous so they worriedly dropped the matter and watched Lenalee make her way in that painful trot of hers.

Momentarily she glances at Kanda, who in turn stares at her back.

An understanding passes between them when no words do. He senses something off and she sends a pleading look. A small glimmer of concern appears in his dark eyes before his lips curl back in a grimace. He chooses to walk away, not bothering to offer words of protest, words that would ultimately do no good.

She keeps moving forward.

He doesn't look back.

Link looks up from his book upon hearing the soft knock at the door. He hears Allen groan out Lenalee's name and it is then that he has a feeling he knows who's at the door. Reaching it in a few long strides, he opened it to see the very girl herself, appearing broken beyond repair.

His eyes grow wide with unnatural alarm. "Miss Lenalee…?"

"I've come to see him," she blurts, anxiousness in her dull eyes.

"But, you should—"

"Move!" she growls, showing far too much hostility towards the man that has given Allen and her all the privacy in the world.

He gives a sigh, realizing that she is being unreasonable but knowing she didn't care. "Half an hour," were his only words as he stepped out, giving her entrance. She shuts the door quickly, hand lingering on the doorknob.

She finds him in his usual spot: curled in a ball on his bed. Dragging her feet over to him, she collapses at the foot of the bed, exhausted beyond measure.

She hears her name get called and slowly she looks up. The look of concern on his ragged and gaunt face made her smile. She was glad she found him in one of his good days. She'd hate to do what she was about to do on a day that he just laid there.

Rising to her feet painfully, she offers him her hand as she said, "Dance with me?"

A look of uncertainty clouds his eyes but slowly he got up, climbing out of his scrawny bed. He collapses into her arms, already panting.

"Just hold onto me," she whispers into his ear, swaying around sluggishly. "Hold onto this moment and pretend we're in it forever."

He rests his head on her shoulder, listening to her sweet murmurs and kind words as they move back and forth on the spot. He senses what is coming and can't help but feel relieved.

"Look only at me as we dance forever," she urges, his head rising up to look into her eye. Even with her face smeared and caked with blood, he still finds her the most beautiful thing on Earth.

"I am…"

Shaking her sleeve, a large piece of glass slips down into her free hand. She grips the shard with a trembling hand and forces herself to lunge it forward, striking Allen in the stomach. His body gives a shudder but he still holds onto her, forcing himself to look her steady in the eye.

She pulls and plunges the makeshift weapon countlessly from his stomach and soon chest, crying bitter tears as she does so. His eyes weld up with tears and he cries tears of relief as he thanks her profusely in spite of the blood that is oozing out of his mouth and down his chin.

Eventually she seizes in her actions and holds him close, his breaths very faint and fading fast. The pair sink to their knees, arms still around each other. She sobs uncontrollable as he slowly dies in her arms at her own hands.

"I'm sorry…I couldn't…keep fighting…" he gasps softly.

"It's alright…" she stammers out, voice thick with emotion. "We died trying…"

"Giving…up…?" he whispers back.

"If you can, so can I." she mandates, leveling the bloody shard to her chest. "I can't live in this world without you."

"I…under…stand…"

She drives the piece of glass into her chest, feeling the eruption of pain as it breaks skin and pierces her insides. Through the pain she can feel him slump forward, head resting on her shoulder, his last breath brushing against her neck.

She smiles softly, tangling her fingers into his hair.

"See…you…soon," she vows. "Have sweet…dreams…"

She leans forward to kiss him when the last of her strength drains out into the pool of blood on the floor and she simply leans forward in a gesture mimicking Allen's, her head resting on his shoulder, her last breath brushing against his neck.

Both sat dead in the other's arms, finally free from the shackles of reality and into an endless dream where they could be together, dancing forever.

In death their fragile souls were finally set free.

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><p><em>Author's Note: Happy New Year's guys! Welcome to 2012! This is a one-shot I wrote in the hours leading up to New Year's and wanted to present it as a gift to all of my fellow Allena fans. I know it's a bit on a depressing side (by a bit I mean a lot), but that's how it came out. I swear I didn't have the intention of bumming people out and I was not depressed while writing this (I'm not a depressing person but I've had my few itty bitty bouts). <em>

_Hope you enjoyed and please leave me your thoughts on it through reviews. Take care._

_May the world not come to an end on 12/21/2012!_


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